


J'ai Fait Tout

by cofax



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cofax/pseuds/cofax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning after.  Written July 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	J'ai Fait Tout

**Author's Note:**

> For Minnow. Title from the Emmylou Harris song of the same name.

Jack lets the screen door slam behind him on its own, with that rhythmic squeak-and-kerthunk he remembers from when he was a kid. He supposes he could oil the spring, but he kind of likes it. Besides, it makes it hard for anyone to sneak into the cabin.

 

It's been a long time since he ran barefoot all summer, his feet tough as the dog's; he picks his way cautiously across the short stretch of yard, keeping the coffee mugs level. Daniel doesn't turn his head when Jack steps out onto the dock, but stays where he is at the end of the dock, leaning back against his hands braced behind him.

 

"Hey," says Jack, as he comes to stand beside Daniel. The wooden surface is rough and splintery under his feet.

 

"Hey," says Daniel in return, but doesn't move. From Jack's perspective it looks like Daniel is staring at the island on the far end of the lake, waiting for something to happen, maybe for Sasquatch to come out of the woods and wave at them.

 

Jack loves it here at this time of year. The bugs are gone, the nights are cool, the mornings bright, if chilly. Daniel must have been out here for a while, because Jack's field coat lies abandoned on the dock behind him. Now the morning sun is bright on Daniel's face and the stained t-shirt he wears over his jeans.

 

Jack clears his throat. "Coffee?"

 

Daniel drops his head back between his shoulders to look up at Jack, and smiles, his eyes almost closed against the light. He sits up to take the mug, one of the few without any chips in it, and curves both hands around the faded logo from a long-defunct hardware store. "Thanks."

 

 

Jack takes a sip from his own mug, looking out over the water. The birches and maples along the shore have just begun to turn, and the quiet water reflects the red and yellow of the trees, the blue hills in the distance, the passing clouds. There's a loon around, still: Jack heard it last night, long after Daniel fell asleep. But the bullfrogs were silent.

 

"It's beautiful." Daniel takes one hand away from his coffee and waves indefinitely at the view. "I never realized."

 

Jack shrugs. "I don't advertise it." The paint is peeling on the dock: he needs to strip and repaint it before he closes up for the season, or rot will set in over the winter. He stands on his left foot and tries to pick at one peeling chip with the toes of his right. He grimaces; his toes aren't nimble enough for this anymore, if they ever were.

 

Daniel drinks some coffee and lowers the mug to his lap. His feet dangle over the edge of the dock, and his smile has faded. "So you finally got me up here."

 

"Yeah." Jack keeps his face still, but his right toes curl against the ball of his foot. He looks at Daniel's face and then away again, out at the lake, which is flat and beautiful. "Shit, Daniel, I didn't mean to--" He stops; it's too humiliating to say it.

 

Something touches his foot. Jack looks down, and Daniel has curled his hand around Jack's right foot, fingers softly pressing, but not moving. Just resting there, two fingers bracketing the inside knob of his ankle bone, palm cradling his heel, thumb soft on the dip below the outside knob.

 

After a long moment Daniel moves his thumb slowly, sweeping it around the bone once, twice. Jack thinks this may be the most erotic thing anyone has ever done. Ever. He pulls his gaze up to look at Daniel's face, which is intent and open, eyes fixed on his own. Daniel's eyebrows do that thing they do when Daniel is waiting for input.

 

"We're okay." Jack doesn't make it a question, because it's already been answered.

 

"Jack, we're okay. Drink your coffee."

 

"Okay."

 

There's a splash out on the lake, a bass taking a late fly. The ripples spread, sparkling in the morning light, and Jack drinks his coffee while Daniel's fingers write promises on the pale and calloused skin of his feet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Screen Door](https://archiveofourown.org/works/81463) by [Nestra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra)




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